


A Simple Question

by MsCashew



Series: And So It Begins [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-05 19:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCashew/pseuds/MsCashew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple question is asked by John Watson, resulting in an interesting discussion and a far more interesting end that he didn't quite expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Question

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, this is my first Sherlock fanfiction that I wrote a couple months ago. :D Nice, yes? 
> 
> But anyway, just the idea came to me and I wrote it out and here we are. Posted before on my ff.net account, so if it seems familiar, there you be. ;) Edited a smidgen for your pleasure, but I'm always open for suggestions for future endeavors (and yell at me if something is amiss, for example, British word type things, as I'm not from the UK, I don't know all the slang, but I do try my best :D).
> 
> But without further ado, please enjoy my little fic and. . . I hope you're all warm and wiggly and fuzzy afterwards. :D
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, I just write these little scenarios for fun, not for profit. :)

"Have you ever been kissed?"

The question escaped from John Watson's mouth amid the sound of his typing on his laptop and of Sherlock Holmes scratching his pen on a notepad before he really even thought of asking it.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed in question, not looking up from his note taking, his other hand busy with his mobile on his knee, punching in this and that for one of his many experiments.

"Have you ever been kissed?" the doctor repeated a tad more louder, his typing ceasing as he looked over at his flatmate that was sitting near him on their couch.

"Why do you want to know such a thing?" he says simply, he still not looking up from his work.

"Well, just, um. . . You know, with Ms. Adler recently," he notices Sherlock's eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the woman's name, "And, well, to put it bluntly. . . Your virginity," he looks over at John slowly, the detective's face blank of emotion as John flusters about with his asking, "I was just wondering, is all."

"Define 'kissing'." he asks, placing his pad, pen, and mobile on the coffee table, leaning back, arms crossing as he gave the slightly older man before him his look of intense inquiry.

"Really? You know, someone you like, have gotten to know them and wanted to do something more, pressing lips together for a few seconds - wait," he stops abruptly, giving Sherlock a look, "Look who I'm talking to, of course you haven't."

"For once, you've come to the right conclusion," he says dryly, picking his notepad back up, the pen rolling away, he beginning shuffling through the pages, "Besides the occasional peck from my mother, and the very surprising kiss from Mycroft after he learned of losing half a stone, no, I have never been kissed before," his eyes wander over, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, "I'm still wondering why you asked, John."

"Just simple curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"Says the cat himself." Sherlock just gives him a small smirk, John not helping but let a small smile appear as well, a chuckle following close behind.

"I see no need for such trivial things as a first kiss." he simply said, looking back to his notes, "Would you hand me a pen?" he says, his eyes not leaving the sheets filled with his own writing as he holds out his hand, John making a little sound of protest, grabbing a pen from the table anyway, placing it in his lanky fingered hand.

"Kinda sad," John spoke after a few moments of thought, "Not having that first kiss."

"I reiterate: I see not a need in taking part in the act of kissing." he kept scribbling away, John noticing that his writing seemed faster than normal, a tad furious in his movements with the pen.

"It's just that," John starts, Sherlock's eyebrows furrowing, his writing coming to a halt, "It's a kiss. It's simple, easy, something anyone could do -"

" **John** ," he interrupts, a threatening tone in uttering his flatmate's name, "Why are you so transfixed on my personal habits? Do you need this information for our past case? For your _blog_?!"

"What? No! I'm not even writing about your, uh, personal habits in it," John flusters again as he studies the intensity of the man's gaze, his notepad down once more, his arms crossed now.

He softly closes his laptop, gently placing it on the coffee table. Placing his hands on his knees, leaning forward; he asks in a sincere and thoughtful tone:

"Are you scared?"

"No." Now, living with Sherlock Holmes for an extended time period could teach you a thing or two, and one thing that John Watson learned that Sherlock didn't like whatsoever was that he could tell when the great detective was outright lying.

"Sherlock. You don't have to lie to me. Why are you scared?"

Thumping back into the couch, he sighed greatly, his eyes giving a dramatic roll as he began.

"I don't want my brilliant mind to rot in the waste bin."

"What?" John asked with a bit of a chuckle, not believing what he heard.

"I've seen cases ranging from petty theft to murder, and you know why about a quarter of those events have turned into cases?" John didn't say anything in order for him to continue, " **Love**. 'Oh, my boyfriend needed the money, so I robbed the shops', 'I still loved her, so to teach her to love me back, I raped her', 'My heart was shattered seeing her in my best mate's bed, I had to shoot them both'," his arms crossed as he mimicked criminals, giving John a sour look as he went on, "All that rubbish, pining for someone, wanting them, _loving_ them; it turns their mind to mush, no matter how much of a genius or dumb minded they are. I don't. . ." his thought drifted off, looking down at his notes, looking as if he didn't know what to say.

"You don't want to turn into a criminal, because you'd do anything for those you care about." John finished his thought, Sherlock giving him a look as if he were right for the second time that day.

"Something like that, yes." he says simply, "Can you imagine the people who would want to work on that case? God, think of Anderson." they both giggled, not being able to stop for a minute or two.

"Sherlock," John started, amused at his friend's antics, "There are geniuses _and_ average people that are in love, that have had no more than a kiss, and they are absolutely fine."

"I'm the exception." Sherlock answered with a raised eyebrow, having that look that he was most definitely right.

"You are absolutely mad, you know that?"

"Yes." he answered, his long arm easily reaching his notepad without having to lean forward, his face now hidden behind the thick paper back.

John just sat there, silent as he studied the man before him. He was an enigma. An enigma wrapped nicely in a fitted plum shirt. How could such a smart man be so positively naive about something so simple as kissing? How could anyone not have a first kiss? It didn't make sense to him, not one bit. It was just a kiss, something to show a person that you liked them, that you were interested in, that you cared for. . . His eyebrows leaped to his hairline in a surprising thought, he clears his throat, ready to ask, what he presumes, is a shocking question.

"Sherlock-"

"You want to kiss me." he says in an even matter of fact tone behind his notes, interrupting the man beside him.

"Well, um, yes. How did you-" Sherlock lets his pad of paper drop to his lap, arms crossing once again as that look of deduction crosses his face.

"John Hamish Watson, not gay Watson, _straight_ as an arrow John. Why?"

"I want to show you that it's not a big deal."

"Hmm." the detective hums in response, "I see."

"See what? Sherlock, you're my friend and if you wanted to experience a kiss, I would do that for you."

"And?" the curly dark haired man raised another eyebrow at him, looking as if he full well knew that that wasn't all of it.

"And. . . I've never had the pleasure of taking someone's first kiss." he admits with a small blush, realizing that he couldn't possibly make up an excuse from the one Sherlock Holmes.

"What exactly is so enticing about that? Taking my first kiss?"

"I can't exactly explain it, but. . . I guess it's just having that little thrill of knowing you were the first to press your lips against their's, knowing that they'll probably remember it for the rest of their lives, thinking that hopefully they had the same thrill as you did." he smiles at him after his explanation, "Though, of course it being you, you could just delete it," he continues, another blush creeping to his cheeks, "And maybe, I'm a little curious. Maybe. . . maybe I always have been but just haven't had the chance to really try anything with another man." he finishes, looking away briefly at his admission of curiosity that he hadn't told to a living soul, most likely holding onto that secret with his time in the army, knowing such a secret could have drastically changed his experience.

"I know." he says evenly, John looking back to find Sherlock with a thoughtful, calculating expression, his hands peaked under his chin in his deducting sort of way.

"What? How-?! My God, if you did, why didn't you say anything when we first met?! You did about everything else!"

"Not relevant." he simply says, "You were obviously not at the stage that you wanted those feelings known to the world, I wasn't about to alienate my future flatmate." John just gives him a terribly disgruntled look.

 _"Because you don't alienate me all that often now?!"_ the doctor thought, placing his face in his hands, shaking his head in annoyance.

"Never mind, forget I ever brought it up," John said, reaching for his laptop, "I'm going to make a good strong cuppa and finish my blog-"

"John," he interrupts in a soft voice, the older man looking toward the younger, surprised at his tone, his expression a tad unreadable, "I will let you have the pleasure of taking my first kiss," the doctor's eyes slightly widen in surprise, not thinking that Sherlock would honestly grant him that, "I will let you know, though, that I will be treating it as an experiment." he nodded in understanding, a tad frozen in place as the realization hits him: he was going to kiss Sherlock Holmes.

"Well, I don't have all day. You're the _expert_ , begin the process of a first kiss." Sherlock says with a bite to his tone, shaking John out of his stupor.

"Right, well," he shuffles a little bit closer, placing his hands on his knees, clearing his throat, "Okay, um, move closer," he listens to John's instructions, moving closer to the point that his black trouser knee grazed his every now and again, "Lean a little toward me," he does so, that unreadable face still in place, that same unreadable expression so very close.

Studying Sherlock's face for a moment, he couldn't help but notice how very light his blue eyes were. He knew they were blue, but were they always so terribly bright? To the point of looking almost grey? Still studying, he places his hands gently on his friend's pale face, his fair smooth skin, he thought, leaning in slightly, feeling Sherlock's breath so very lightly on his lips. Gulping lightly, he just about places his lips on those soft full pink ones when he noticed it.

Sherlock looked nervous. Nervous and scared. _**The**_ Sherlock Holmes who could probably bring the very Devil to tears with his skills of deduction if he tried, looking frightful about a little kiss. . . But, in this field, John thought, he was no more than a child who was scared about something new, about letting someone in in such a different way.

He softly swipes his thumb back and forth slowly on his cheek to reassure him, he seeing the man at the end of his hands becoming slightly tense at his careful touch.

"Trust me." John whispers kindly to his friend, he seeing him starting to relax as his gentle touch kept on.

"I do." he simply says in his lovely baritone voice, it sounding so soft to the doctor's ears, this confession making John smile. He trusted him, and that was amazing.

Leaning in once again, he looks into Sherlock's eyes once more to show care for his friend, to make him feel alright. John closes his slowly after reassuring his friend with his gaze; breaching the small gap between them, he gingerly, cautiously, places his slightly chapped lips on his friend's bottom lip for the beginning of Sherlock's first kiss.

It felt so nice for what it was. Sherlock didn't exactly kiss back, but he didn't pull away either as John pressed his lips a bit more firmly to the terribly soft bowed ones that belonged to his flatmate, his colleague, his friend. His best friend. And he was right, it did offer a certain thrill of taking someone's first kiss, but, he believed that he got such a better thrill at the fact that it was Sherlock.

Pulling away slowly, both of their breathing a tad heavy; John was pleasantly surprised at finding that his friend's usually pale cheeks held a lovely rosy tint, seeing also his eyes half lidded, looking as if he hadn't closed them during their kiss.

"Was it worth it?" John asked, his hands still placed nicely on his cheeks, "Losing the mystery of kissing?" he smiled teasingly, not knowing he would soon be greatly surprised a second time that day.

Sherlock studied him not for a moment before he raised his hands, wrapping his arms around John's neck slowly, this making the former soldier's hands drop to his sides, finding himself a bit dumbfounded at the detective's actions. Sherlock leaned in more, John letting a small gasp escape as the dark haired man's eyes closed, his lips descending on his in a second kiss, Sherlock now participating in full, his lips pressing strongly to John's, he kissing back immediately, hands snaking around the younger man's trim waist, pulling him in more until he was flush against his body, loving the feeling of his slim form pressed tightly against him, it feeling immensely different than when he had a woman in the same position. It felt. . . nice. It felt right with Sherlock.

After a long while of lips moving together nicely, gently, caringly; John wanted a little more. Not very much of course, it being his friends first kissing experience and all.

He gently swiped his tongue across Sherlock's lip, he tensing slightly at the unexpected swipe, John rubbing his back softly to try and relax him, this working as he opens his mouth just the smallest bit. Welcoming John's tongue nicely, an almost inaudible groan emitting from Sherlock as John's tongue explored with care, John pulling him more on top of him, wanting to feel his friend more, a hand traveling upward, running to the front, gliding up his toned chest, it finding it's destination of his unruly dark hair. His hair felt so incredibly soft as his hand ran through it, grasping it as he tilted his head just so, deepening the kiss that Sherlock started, holding him tightly against him, feeling his friend's hands move to his own hair, running his fingers through it, playing with it as his tongue played with John's daintily, almost seeming scared to do so.

John withdrew his tongue, drawing the younger man's bottom lip into his mouth, sucking just the slightest bit, Sherlock breathing in small heavy pants, John feeling his warm breath with each little puff he expelled.

Letting go of his lip, he gives it a final soft kiss, leaning back, finding a breathless, thoroughly snogged detective in his arms, he practically straddling him, their hearts beating rapidly against one another, his face flush from the moment, feeling for certain that his face probably matched as his breathing most certainly did.

"Fast learner." John mumbles in his ragged state, musing over the tranquil man he was holding.

His hand in the curls of the swollen pink lipped detective ghosted back to his face, holding it there nicely, his thumb gently caressing his cheek, feeling Sherlock lean so very subtly into his touch, John wondering if he may have imagined it.

"Good experiment?" John smiled after their breathing had almost returned to normal, Sherlock just nodding a feeble nod, making John chuckle, "I made the great Sherlock Holmes speechless? Now that's a worthy feat, I must say." this makes Sherlock giggle, John joining in the giggling, them continuing their giggle fit for a short while.

"It was interesting." he finally answered, the corner of his lips upturned slightly in a small smile, John feeling the detectives fingers still lightly playing with his hair as they sat there.

"Any immediate conclusions?" the doctor asks, his head tilting slightly in his query.

"One or two."

"Care to share them with me?"

"One," he started, his fingers now lightly caressing the back of John's head, that quirk of a smile still plastered to his face, "That wasn't entirely as dreadful as I had made it out to be." John smirks at this bit of information, feeling Sherlock tug on his hair a tad as he bore the smug face.

"Two. . ." he says in a gentle voice, almost unsure as his face starts to color again with what he's about to say, "I. . . Wouldn't be fully opposed to do that again," he pauses a small second, his cheeks positively red, "With you." he finishes quietly, looking away from John, he seeing that the man that was nearly in his lap was embarrassed at his confession. John obviously knew that that wasn't at all the easiest thing for Sherlock to admit to. But, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit smug.

"Well," he starts, bringing Sherlock's face gently back to look at him, his eyes holding an air of intensity as he began to speak, "I wouldn't be opposed to it either." he says as his cheeks start to grow red again.

"Really?" he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow, making John smile. The doctor brings his face close to his once again, gently kissing his soft lips, quickly, yet efficiently. Pulling back, Sherlock's smile is a little wider, this making John absolutely grin.

"Really." he simply says, they both giggling a tad bit more, that thumb of John's ever rubbing Sherlock's cheek

"Where do we go from here?" Sherlock wonders out loud, looking as if he didn't know whether to move off of John or to stay, the man holding him making the decision for him by making his grip on him just the slightest bit tighter.

"Well, um. . ." John begins to think in a mad flurry, thinking of what they could do, his answer bursting out before thinking it fully through, "Would you have dinner with me?" This makes Sherlock's eyes widen the slightest bit, John realizing that what brought all this on was the mention of Irene Adler, "Oh no. No, no no, not that kind of dinner. Just dinner! I take you out, we eat, maybe go on a walk afterward or the cinema, a, a date." John flusters out his explanation in a terrible rush, a blush wandering to his already pink cheeks.

Sherlock leans in a tad closer, a bemused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, still holding the back of John's head, his fingers playing with his sandy locks in a limpid sort of way.

"John Watson, extensively denying any sort of relationship between the two of us since the very beginning besides friendship; you would actually take me out in public on a real date?" John studies him for a moment, a grin forming on his pink lips as a thought occurs to him.

"Would it be your first date?" Sherlock just answers him with a furrow of his eyebrows, another flush rising to his cheeks, and barely a mutter of 'Define date', this making John chuckle, "I'd be honored to take you out on a date, Sherlock." he smiles at the tall man that was draped over his form, a smile forming on the detective's lips, John not being able to help but give him a quick peck, making Sherlock smile wider.

"But. . ." John continues, a tad cautiously, "If I take you out, it wouldn't be just a continuation of, what I hope just started out as and has turned into something more. . . It wouldn't be just an experiment, would it?" he manages to get his thought out in a quiet tone, watching his friend carefully as he had that Sherlock thinking face on.

"You're going to have to forgive me," he started, John's lungs stopping their function, waiting anxiously at exactly what Sherlock's plans were, "If sometimes I do treat it as such, but John. . . I don't want it to be just an experiment. I would rather enjoy going out on a . . . _date_ , with you." he finished with an uncharacteristically shy smile, the breath John was holding coming out in one long whoosh, he grinning like a mad man. Though, that grin was soon wiped clean off his face when Sherlock leaned in one more time, placing a soft, sweet kiss upon his lips, John kissing back enthusiastically, his arm wrapping itself around his friend tighter than before, that hand going back in his curly locks, loving being able to do so.

Pulling apart, stupid grins plastered to both their faces; Sherlock starts pulling himself away from John, the soldier not especially liking the feeling of losing his friend's warm form pressed against him.

He ran off toward the door, collecting their coats, unceremoniously tossing John's to him, throwing his own coat on in a dramatic flourish, starting to wrap his scarf in his usual way once his coat was neatly on.

"What are you doing?" John asked, a confused tone to his voice.

"Getting ready." he said simply, that smile not leaving his face.

"For what?"

"Our date." again, he simply said, that quirk of a smile widening, quickly making his way toward John.

"What? But, I just asked! Give me time to plan one, for God's sake!" he stood despite himself, slowly putting his coat on, Sherlock pushing the garment the rest of the way on.

"No. How many of your attempts at a planned date have actually succeeded? You asked, so let's go." he smirked, taking John's hand into his once his coat was on, a tad of a discouraging look coming to John's face, it all aimed at Sherlock's brutal honesty. A kind look overtook the smirk of Sherlock's, though. Bending down, he presses a quick peck to the shorter man's cheek, John's look of annoyance turning into one of joy, the tiniest of blushes creeping to his cheeks.

Bustling toward the door, his hand still in his friends, he groaned loudly at Sherlock's next words.

"Come along, Watson, the date is afoot!"

"Oh God, what have I started?"

"Hopefully something magnificent." They run down the stairs, heading out of 221B swiftly, making their way down the street, hand in hand, John sputtering about in his thoughts of where to take his friend. . . his **date**. A pleased smile overtakes his features, gripping his date's hand a tad more tightly, beginning to take a bit more of a lead in their actions.

"Pasta sound alright?" he asks, entwining his fingers with the detective's, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Sounds brilliant!" he looks down, his face positively emphatic with delight, a look John quite liked seeing on the usually stark face of the detective before him.

Where the date would lead, he didn't know. He was just excited to be out on a date with his best friend. A date with someone he cared about, really more than he thought possible. A person that made him feel wanted and not so alone, one that he owed so very much to.

A man who let John himself have his first kiss. A kiss he felt immensely honored to take.


End file.
